“I have to say, ladies, you really had one on us. Never in a million years would I have ever guessed the Green books were written by a woman, and even less that they were the creation of a girl her age. Alex, you have a very, very twisted mind.” He said it as a compliment and she grinned.
“Thank you,” she said, taking it as it was meant. Rose sat down in one of the chairs then, and signaled to Alex to do the same.
“Now you understand why we don’t want anyone to talk. It would only hurt the books.”
“But how long can we keep it quiet?” The CEO took his hand off his eyes and chimed in, as Rose poured champagne and handed the glasses around. No one declined, and the CEO was looking at the bottle of Johnnie Walker longingly, so Rose poured him a stiff one on the rocks, which he grabbed like a life vest for a drowning man.
“Hopefully forever,” Rose said. “Or for many, many years, until the brand is secure. We’ve created a persona for the author of the books. He’s said to be a recluse. And given the nature of the books, it works, or has so far. No one is begging to see him, or complaining that they can’t. They’re devouring the books, and that’s all we care about, all of us. Much more important, Alex is an extremely hard worker, and very dedicated to the books. She hasn’t stopped working since I met her, and given her age, I think you’ll get a long run out of this, gentlemen.”
The president was smiling again. He thought the whole thing was incredible, and they all exploded into animated chatter at once, Amanda with Alex, as the others talked to each other and Rose. Amanda was congratulating Alex on her success. They all sat there for two hours talking about the risks and possibilities, the way to capitalize on the author’s mysterious image, and how great the books were, drinking heavily while they discussed it all. Rose had opened a third bottle of champagne by then, and the CEO had had four scotches on the rocks, and needed them all to get over the shock.
It was six o’clock when they left Rose’s office, and no one was entirely sober. Alex had had a glass of champagne, and Rose had had Johnnie Walker on the rocks herself with a splash of water, but only one. And the president gave Alex a hug on the way out. Before they left, Rose reminded them that you discovered talent where you found it, no matter how unlikely the source, and you never refused it or turned it away.
“Thank God you didn’t in this case,” the president said with feeling, endorsing what the agent said. He was in full agreement with her. And what a lucky find for all of them and the house Alex had been. “I’ll get the contract for the new books over to you on Monday,” he assured Rose as they left, and she nodded. Everything was moving forward again.
Rose collapsed in one of the chairs and looked up at Alex when they were alone again. “Well, Mr. Green, what do you think?” Rose was extremely pleased with how it had gone. It couldn’t have been better.
“I was scared to death,” Alex admitted, as she sipped what was left of her champagne. She hadn’t dared drink too much.
“I thought John Rawlings was going to have a heart attack in my office,” she said of the CEO and they both laughed. “I will never forget the look on their faces, but Hugh Stern is really a good guy.” He had been the first to come around when he started to laugh and broke the ice.
“I’m glad I met Amanda. She’s really nice and always so helpful,” Alex added.
“And a good editor, but not as good as Bert.”
They dissected the meeting for another half hour, and then Alex had to catch her train. She was going to take a cab to the station.
“I was very proud of you, Alex,” Rose said as she hugged her before she left.
“I thought you were wonderful,” Alex said softly. “Do you think they’ll keep the secret?”
“They don’t want to blow ten million dollars, so yes, they will keep the secret. They are now our partners in crime, to keep your identity safe.”
Alex left to go back to Boston then, and Rose helped herself to another drink. It had been tense for a moment at first, but it had all gone better than she hoped.
On Monday, Hugh Stern, the president, was true to his word. He sent back the signed contract for Alex’s next two books, and met Rose’s demand. She smiled when she saw it. They were in the big leagues now. Alex’s publisher had paid her two million dollars for her two new books, a million dollars each. The deal was done. And Alexander Green was safe, hopefully forever.
Chapter 11
Mother Mary Margaret had rented two stretch airporter vans for the day of Alex’s graduation. All of the nuns were going and they were very excited as they climbed into the vans, with Sister Tommy driving one, and one of the older nuns the other. They had their tickets, and would occupy a full row in the auditorium. Alex was dressing in the dorm, and they wouldn’t see her until the procession. They were so proud of her. It was one of the most thrilling days of Alex’s life, and the Buchanans were coming too. Elena was still working for a family in New York, and her contact with Alex had dwindled to a Christmas card every year to stay in touch. Alex hadn’t seen her in many years. When she had tried to see her the summer she worked in New York, Elena was in Martha’s Vineyard with her employers, which was disappointing.
It was a beautiful day as the family and friends of the graduates took their seats in the Robsham Theater at the College of Arts and Sciences. The nuns could hardly sit still as they chatted, waiting for the procession to start. And then they saw her coming down the long aisle, with her classmates, in pairs, to take their seats and claim their diplomas. The nuns cheered even louder than they had at her high school graduation, and the graduates let out a whoop and a roar as they threw their mortarboards in the air after the ceremony. It was a very special day.
The Buchanans invited all of them to the Chart House, with harbor views in the city’s oldest dock building, for lunch afterward. Alex was beaming, and each of the nuns hugged her and had a photograph taken with her. In the end, she had grown up with twenty-six mothers instead of one, and it had served her well. She was a happy, balanced person, and even though she still missed her father, she had been loved and well taken care of for more than seven years. She was twenty-two years old, and Bill congratulated her and was stunned by how much she was paid for the advance for her last books. It was a major achievement, and added to what her father had left her, she would be safe for a long time.
Alex had invited Bert to come to the ceremony too, but he said he didn’t want to put on a suit, and would drink a glass of wine, or possibly rum, to her health and future success at the appointed time. She would have liked to have him there, but he said ceremonies made him uncomfortable.
By the time they got back to the convent late that afternoon after lunch, Alex was exhausted. She had thanked the Buchanans for everything, kissed and hugged all the nuns, returned her rented gown, kept the tassel from her hat as a souvenir, and set her diploma in its leather case down on her desk. It was a landmark in her life. She had graduated. And her dream now was to travel around Europe, in France and Italy. The nuns were nervous about it, but Mother MaryMeg had discussed it at length with Sister Tommy, who had convinced her to let Alex go. She had to try her wings. And she wasn’t short of money, so she could stay in decent hotels in good neighborhoods. Both women thought she could take care of herself and would be safe. She was sensible and not given to high-risk behavior. She was leaving for Rome in a week, and she could hardly wait.
She was lying on her bed, thinking about the day, when there was a soft knock on the door, and Sister Regina slipped into the room. She had been looking better lately. She’d gained back a little weight and seemed more serene. She came and sat down on the foot of Alex’s bed and smiled at her.
“We were so proud of you today.” They always were, and Alex smiled back at her.
“It was great.” It had been everything she had always dreamed of and more. And the only one missing was her father.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” Sister Regina began cautiously. Mother Mary Margaret had asked
her to wait to tell Alex, so it wouldn’t distract her from graduation. She didn’t want anything to spoil it for her, in case Alex was upset by the news. But this time, Alex guessed before she said it.
“You’re leaving?” Her longtime friend nodded, with tears in her eyes, but they were tears of emotion, and not regret. She had taken years to decide and mull it over, and she knew she was doing the right thing. Alex wasn’t surprised and knew how hard the decision had been for her.
“I have to. If I don’t, I’ll always regret it, and life will pass me by. Mother MaryMeg says I can come back if I want to. I’m not being banished or anything, or excommunicated. I just need to try life outside for a while, and see if it’s for me. Maybe I’ll come back with my tail between my legs, but if I don’t do it, I’ll feel cheated forever. It’s as if you had never tried to write a book. You need that to be who you are, and I want to try to have a regular life with a husband and kids, if God decides that’s what I should have.” It made sense to Alex, and she thought it was the best decision, and she hoped Regina found what she was looking for out in the world. If she wanted kids, she should have them.
“Where will you live?”
“I got an apartment, with a roommate, it’s very small. And I have a job, teaching at a public school in South Boston. I start at the end of August. I’ll stay here till July, and then I’ll move out and get settled.” Regina felt like this was her last chance to have the life she had dreamed of.
“Do the others know?”
“Not yet. You’re the first one I’ve told. We decided a month ago. Mother has been very kind.” And then she looked at Alex sadly. “Will you stay in touch?” They had been friends for seven and a half years, and Regina had watched Alex grow up from a young teenager to a woman, and had seen her develop her talent. Regina wanted to write a book too, a novel, about a nun leaving the convent, although she knew she didn’t have Alex’s gift, but she had a story to tell, even if she only wrote one book. “But hopefully no one gets murdered in mine.”
They both laughed and hugged each other, and Alex promised she’d write to her from Europe.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said. “I have nothing to rush back for. I want to travel for a couple of months. I’ll be back in the fall. I want to start a new book then. But I can write while I’m away too.”
“Well, come and see me when you get back.”
Both of them were excited when they talked about their respective plans that afternoon, and sat on Alex’s bed until dinnertime.
They went down to dinner together and the mother superior could tell that Sister Regina had shared her secret with Alex, and she didn’t mind. She knew how close they were. And Regina wasn’t leaving St. Dominic’s in disgrace, she was going to find herself, with their blessing. Mother MaryMeg knew full well that the religious life was not for everyone, and the vocation Regina had been so sure of as a teenager twenty years before no longer felt right to her as a thirty-five-year-old woman.
Alex left a week later, after saying goodbye to Bert and promising to write to him too, or call from time to time. He told her to take some time off from writing for the next two months, it would do her good, and give her a chance to fill the well again, as he put it. She had written five books in a relatively short time. And he thought Europe would give her fresh ideas. There were so many places she wanted to visit: Paris, Rome, Florence, Pisa, Provence. She had a long list of cities and locations she had read about and only imagined for years, and all of them would make fantastic settings for a book.
—
Sister Regina, Sister Xavier, and Sister Tommy drove Alex to the airport, and she had only taken two bags. One of them was very heavy because she had her Smith Corona in it. She had brought her laptop in her carry-on bag and two of her father’s favorite books. She had packed comfortable clothes and a few dresses, and some notepads in case she wanted to write longhand. She had hugged Mother MaryMeg before she left and thanked her for everything. How did you thank someone for a third of your life, being your family and giving you a home? She couldn’t, and they just held each other tight, and the mother superior gave her a blessing, and told her to be careful and call from time to time. Alex promised she would, and it was a tearful scene at the airport with the three other nuns she had been closest to, who had been a trio of mothers to her for all the years she’d been there. They hugged and kissed a dozen times, and waved as she went through security, until they couldn’t see her anymore, and then they drove back to the convent, alternately crying and laughing, remembering things she had done when she was younger. And by the time they got to the convent, Alex was on the plane, thinking of them. She was a little nervous about traveling alone, but if it didn’t work out, she knew she didn’t have to stay, she could come home.
—
But the trip exceeded her wildest expectations. She thought Rome was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen, with the Colosseum, St. Peter’s, the Vatican, and the countless small beautiful churches. She spent a week there and walked everywhere. She went to Florence and spent days in the Uffizi, and four days in Venice, visiting every church and monument on her list. Being in Venice sparked an idea for a new book, and she started taking notes. She thought the canals and the palazzi, particularly at night, were a perfect location for a sinister crime, with Interpol involved, and she created an Italian detective. She went to Milan briefly, and then flew to Paris and spent two weeks there. It was mid-July by then, and she had called the convent several times to check in, so they didn’t worry about her. She rented a car, and drove to the châteaux of the Loire Valley, and fell in love with Provence when she went there. She made a detour to Ireland, and loved it despite terrible weather, and then flew to London and spent two full weeks exploring the city. She had been in Europe for more than two months, she still had no desire to go home, and her notebook was full of jotted notes for a new book.
She found a small hotel in Bloomsbury, and thought about what to do next. When she called Rose to check in, the agent made an interesting suggestion.
“Your publisher has an office in London. Maybe they could bend the rules and give you a job for a while, just to get a feeling for life there. Since it’s an American company, they’ll know how to get around your needing a work permit and can probably pay you from the States, or set it up as an internship of some kind.” Alex liked the idea and thought it might give her an excuse to stay, since she wasn’t ready to come home. She couldn’t tell them that she was Alexander Green, but she could use her internship in New York as a reference to get one here. She thought that Rose’s suggestion was a good one, and she walked into the publisher a few days later and inquired if they had any openings for an internship as an editorial assistant, and they said they might. One of their junior editors had gotten married recently and moved back to the States, and the current assistant who had taken her place was getting a promotion. They agreed to interview Alex the next day, and treat the junior editor’s job as an internship until they found a proper replacement with a work permit.
She wore the only nice dress she had brought with her, and at the end of two hours, after she met several people, they hired her. The pay was low, but she had her own money. She was doing it for the experience, not what she’d earn, which was an enviable position to be in, unlike her friend Regina, who was about to become Brigid O’Brien again, and was worried about how to make ends meet with her teaching job. Alex had the freedom to do whatever she wanted, and stay as long as she chose. And she liked the idea of working in London. She called Mother Mary Margaret and told her about her decision, and said she was sure she wouldn’t stay for more than a few months, and they’d probably have a permanent replacement for the job by then anyway.
“That’s what you’re there for,” the mother superior encouraged her, “to discover the world. It will be good for your books.”
Alex went to a real estate broker to find a furnished apartment rental, and located a small
but very nice one in Knightsbridge that suited her, and rented it for three months. It seemed more sensible than staying at a hotel. So she had a job, and an apartment, and she was going to live in a new city for a while. She felt very adventuresome as she walked to work the next day and found the person she was supposed to report to, Margaret Wiseman, an older editor whose specialty was historical novels. She was chilly to Alex and told her which desk she could use, but she made no particular effort to welcome her, and handed her a stack of work to do. They were menial tasks, like filing, but it kept her busy until lunchtime, and Fiona, one of the young assistants, came to say hello and ask her to join them for lunch, and she accepted. She was three years older than Alex, and everyone was friendly as they sat at a sandwich shop, talking about people she didn’t know. They thought it very interesting that Alex had come from Boston for a job there, as a junior editor on an internship. She explained that she had just graduated from college in June, and had been traveling around Europe ever since.
“Good on you!” one of the girls said admiringly, and they all walked back to the office together, and got into the elevator with an attractive man in a black shirt, black jeans, and motorcycle boots, with tousled black hair, and he looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a week, which Alex assumed was intentional. She laughed, thinking that he reminded her of one of the characters in her books.
He spoke to her as they left the elevator together, the lift, as the girls had called it, and he headed in the same direction as Alex.
“New girl in town?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, and she smiled and nodded. She was wearing jeans and a sweater because she’d been told that casual dress was allowed, within reason. No flip-flops, no shorts, no halter tops, but jeans were fine.
The Right Time Page 14
